At The Shoulders of Giants Part 1
by BaZ00ka
Summary: Set in the wake of the Genoshan atorcity, Storm is asked to take a small team to investigate an unusual energy pattern.


**Standing at the shoulders of giants**

**Chapter1: Offers**

Despite its reputation as the city that never sleeps, there are parts of New York that are so peaceful in the morning that they deafen with silence. Right now, Westchester was such a place. On the Xavier estate miles away from the mansion, Logan sat under a tree and thought of the last time that he heard true silence. He breathed deeply, taking in the fresh morning air. The taste and weight of the morning dew was light on his throat and very refreshing.

To Logan a breath of fresh air was like an adrenaline shot to the heart.

Logan clambered to his feet and looked up at the sky. As part of the x-men he had been to the moon, fought on many worlds and even in space. He had seen many things both frightening and breathtaking and met some truly wondrous people. Despite all of this, Logan could think of few things as spiritually rewarding as being amongst nature on a clear morning.

Logan's deep breaths shortened until they became concise sniffs. He looked into the forest around him and slowly began circling the tree he was sat under looking for any clues, scanning high and low looking for a starting point. Pacing slowly around the tree, Logan cleared his mind and waited. The sign would come because it always came…and there it was in the form of a mild musk. Smiling to himself, his head darted from side to side trying to pick up the direction. The kind, gentle wind that had brought it to him had taken it away just as quickly. He waited …and there it was again. Logan lowered his posture and trod lightly toward some bushes. He slowly brushed some branches aside and immersed himself in the forest. The scent became slightly stronger with each step. He picked up the pace breaking into a light trot, dancing from side to side, bobbing and weaving, hopping over roots and ducking under leaves and stems trying to move smoothly and quietly. Logan could now hear the light footsteps of his prey as it paced around in the grass. It was close. Nature rolled the dice again and interceded as the wind shifted drastically again, from blowing lightly on his face to strongly against his shoulders and neck. "Damn it" he thought, his target would now pick up his scent just as easily.

Logan stopped dead and stood motionless waiting for the repercussions of this change in conditions. He crouched down like a coiled spring waiting to pounce. The faint distant rustle was like a starters gun and Logan leapt into action. The prey was aware and already moving at full speed and maintaining its distance from Logan. Logan let out a guttural snarl and picked up the pace. He was closing in on his target … fast. Soon Logan was close enough to see his prey, the powerful hind les of the stag darted around as he tried to escape. Logan was now moving at close to top speed as he closed in. As a resident he knew the terrain of the estate very well. Well enough to know that clearing was roughly a hundred meters away. The crucial finale to this chase would be a question of timing. As the stag burst through the bushes into the clearing, it switched to the smoother terrain with a slight skip. Logan's transition was slightly less graceful but with his speed advantage there was little difference to the outcome. He swiped wildly at his prey's hind legs trying to knock it off balance. Adrenalin numbed any pain and his healing factor compensated for any tissue damage. The stag fought back by kicking wildly with its hind legs. Logan took a hoof to the jaw as he tackled the stag, clasping his arms around the hind legs. The dust and grass of the sun-dried clearing swirled around them as they crashed to the floor with a muffled thud. They rolled around on the grass for what seemed like an eternity but was actually ten seconds. Logan was sure of the time because he was counting in his head. The stag tried to kick as it twisted around wildly, unable to break his captors grip. At the end of the ten-count, Logan relaxed his grip on his unlikely sparring partner and allowed the loser to scramble back to his feet. In doing so the stag left a parting gift, in the form of a second hoof to his captor's jaw.

"Heheh. What a sore loser." He said.

As Logan stood up laughing, a drop of blood dribbled down his cut lip leaving a copper taste in his mouth. The cut began to tingle with a mild itch as his healing factor made sure that it was only a single drop of blood. The stag stopped at the far end of the clearing and turned to look at Logan. Their eyes locked as they communicated on a primal level. Deciding that there was no need for any unpleasantness, Logan broke the deadlock:

"Two out o f three?" He said exposing his eyeteeth with a broad smile. The stag answered by dashing off into the trees.

A deep voice boomed from behind Logan, activating a defensive reflex.

With a twitch of the muscles in his forearms and clenched fists, he popped his claws:

"Going soft on me, 'runt?" Said a gravel-like voice from behind some bushes. Logan turned quickly for visual confirmation that the voice belonged to a certain Victor Creed, better known as Sabretooth. Sabretooth had a well -earned reputation as one of the world's most successful assassins and a very dangerous mutant. The comparisons between the two men were well known. Both had animal keen senses and reflexes, both had razor sharp claws and a legendary healing factor and both loved to fight. The difference was that Sabretooth was much bigger and stronger and the only thing he loved more than fighting was killing. To most people, Sabretooth was the last thing they would see before they died. To Logan he was an old sparring partner.

The morning sun blazed across his blonde scruffy mane as he stepped from the bushes into the light of the clearing. Logan sniffed and grimaced as he took in the heavy mixture of musk and sweat. Sabretooth had probably worked up the sweat by-passing the estate's security systems. To the average human nose he probably needed a shower, but to someone with senses as keen as Logan's, it was like smelling salts. Judging Creeds movements as passive Logan retracted his claws.

"What d'ya want bub?" He asked.

"You…for a night!" Replied the assassin.

"You lonely? Ain't this a long way to come for a dance? Or do you need me knock you around again." Logan stepped back as he spoke, allowing Sabretooth room to step into the clearing whilst maintaining the distance between the two men.

"Hah. Big talk from a small runt! 'Last I remember, I'm the one that killed you. If I wanted to dance your card would be full. I came to make you an offer you won't refuse."

Logan looked up and down at him, taking in his dirty jeans and ripped t-shirt. Sabretooth wasn't wearing any shoes but this was not unusual for men such as these as Logan often hunted with little or no clothing on in order to feel at one with nature. The thick, durable toenails of someone so powerful were a frequently overlooked as a weapon.

"Looks like the Canadian government has made some serious cutbacks. Or did they finally notice that you're murderin' scum!" Said Logan as he twitched his nose.

"None o' your business kid! This is a private job, like I said. One night's work good money, and I reckon this one'll interest ya!"

"I don't need your stinking money. What is it this time murder or theft?"

Sabretooth threw his head back and let out a cry that combined a lion's roar and laughter in response to Logan's jibe.

"There ain't no one you could kill that I couldn't slice up quicker, and if I wanted a thief I'd be talking to the cajun." Sabretooth snarled exposing a set of teeth that would make any carnivore proud.

"Point. Then what?" Replied Logan with genuine interest. He had never seen Creed interested in job that didn't involve taking something and/or hurting someone.

"Babysitting! Watching over a few thousand mutants in a nightclub. There's a new place opening up, strictly no flat scans (an increasingly popular term for non-mutant humans). Someone doesn't want the party crashed."

This time it was Logan's turn to laugh.

"Hah. Me, a nightclub bouncer! Who's behind the bar, Quicksilver? Besides who could possibly want you and me on the same team?"

"Hey, boss' choice. Actually the offer isn't just for you. It's a package deal, you and soldier boy. Bishop"

"Why him?" Asked Logan with a hard stare.

"Who cares, but it's a joint offer, both of you or nothing. After keeping me chained up in your basement I'd rather watch you both bleed. Still, there's always a next time." Said Creed matching his stare and raising the stakes by brandishing his claws in the morning sun.

"I believe Charlie called it therapy." Said Logan ignoring the display of bravado.

Despite the unusually peaceful banter between the two men, neither man wanted to mention the seriousness of the proposal. Bishop's energy absorbing abilities added to his vast experience as both a policeman and soldier made him an excellent recruitment choice. Logan's reputation stretched from New York to Madripoor and back but that would require knowledge of his aliases as Wolverine and Patch. However, Bishop was from an alternate future and quite good at keeping a low profile in his personal life. Logan couldn't think of many people with the resources to know about Bishop, the funds to find and hire an employee like Sabretooth and the 'stones' to think they could control three highly skilled Alpha-class mutants. Sniffing the air gently, he could not let that bother him now, in front of Creed.

"I'll speak to Bishop. How do I get hold of our 'employer'?" Asked Logan, hoping to get an easy shot at "Mr Big's" identity.

Sabretooth reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small mobile phone, which he threw at Logan with vicious accuracy and speed. Reflexes as sharp as his claws allowed Logan to catch the projectile, centimetres before it smashed him in the nose. With that Sabretooth stepped backward into the bushes he had emerged from. He paused briefly just before he was completely covered. With a sly grin he answered.

"You don't. I'll call you on that tomorrow night. And tell the frail there's no point hidin' when ya stink that good. See ya runt!"

Pleased that he had exposed the source of Logan's nasal twitch, he roared with laughter and disappeared into the forest to make his escape.

Logan could probably track down Sabretooth and beat the name of his employer out of him but his heart was no longer in it.

"You can come out now" called Logan over his shoulder.

The feint mixture of cocoa butter and jasmine was a very special to him as a dear friend and teammate wore it, Ororo Munroe. Since her youth, she had been through several changes in look and attitude, but she was best known as the weather-controlling mutant named Storm. Ororo's upbringing as a thief on the streets of Cairo had served her well when it came to being hidden but matched against the senses of Logan and Sabretooth her skills were still slightly lacking.

Using her powers, the morning breeze carried her over the trees and set her down gently in the clearing beside Logan.

"Didn't think this was your neck of the woods anymore." Said Logan taking out his post hunt stogie.

"Home is where my loved ones are." She replied with a smile as bright as the morning sun.

"Seems like some of us will always be here" Said Logan.

"Then this will always be home and it sounds like someone needs another vacation. One of your notorious road trips to Canada perhaps? Actually Beast contacted us and said he wanted to show me something." Replied Ororo.

Logan patted his pockets looking for a light. He was sure he had picked up a book of matches when he left the mansion. He didn't like taking a lighter when he went hunting, the last time he did he lost a good one. It was a silver-plated Harley Davidson Limited Edition. It even matched his 'hog'.

"Ya said 'us'. Bishop with you?" He asked giving up on the search for matches and taking up a small broken twig. Chewing on the cigar, he held the piece of wood at arms length. Staring at his colleague for a second Logan nodded toward the twig with a raised eyebrow. Ororo rolled her bright blue eyes amazed that she had gone from being worshipped as an African goddess to cigar lighter. Allowing a tiny fraction of power to well up inside her, a small crackle of electricity danced along her fingers and lightening struck the same place twice. The hairy Canadian smiled at the small fire in his hand and puffed on his well-earned cigar.

"Soldier boy with you or not?" He repeated.

"He won't do it. He hates nightclubs. You remember what happened last time he and Remy went to one?" Said Ororo creating a small rain cloud over the discarded twig. Logan took the cigar from his mouth as a plume of smoke gushed from his nostrils.

"The difference is I don't want him to 'lighten up', I wanna know who's behind this. I wanna know who thinks they can control that much muscle. 'Sides, it sounds like a challenge. See how long it takes him to lose his temper with all those unruly kids!"

They burst into laughter in unison. Bishop's military background had often come under fire from those they were forced to live with him for any length of time. His skill as a detective, soldier and warrior were never in question but his need to stay up late cleaning his weapons and the shine on his boots had earned him a reputation that was second only to Cyclops in the category of 'most obsessive mutant'.

Wiping a tear from her eye Ororo summoned a blast of wind to elevate her into the air.

"Can I give you a lift?" she asked ready to repeat the process for Logan.

"Nah, rather walk. I left some beers not far from here … good to have you back 'ro!" he said with a wink and a smile.

"It is good to be back. Breakfast?" returning his smile she turned and flew in the direction of the mansion.

Logan jogged lightly in the direction of the mansion hoping to come across the mislaid beverages. His thirst slipped further from his thoughts as he considered Creed's proposal. He took out the mobile phone and pushed the power button. The display screen came to life with a beep and flashed bright green. It was now a waiting game. As he moved through the trees, the morning sun, which was now higher and much brighter than it was when he had begun his workout, pierced the gaps in the leaves and branches overhead giving the forest a disco-like quality. Ignoring the possibility that this was any kind of omen, his thoughts became deeper as he considered how this gathering had come to pass.

The concept was so obvious it could be completely innocent enough. The profile of mutant community had been steadily rising for years, with key figures such as Professor Charles Xavier going public about their identity and powers. Prior to the 'Sentinel incident', mutants had claimed Genosha as a nation to call their own with Magneto being mentioned in the news as often as any other world leader and not just as a terrorist or 'super-villain'. With Magneto gone, Logan and his associates had been expecting mutant communities in other countries to fill this vacuum by seeking public acknowledgement as the next mutant home. This had been further agitated by Dr McCoy's discovery that the homo-sapien may be extinct within a few generations. Although he had not yet published any documentary evidence to support his theory, the few 'flatscans that already knew were not taking the news lying down. Militant groups on both sides were on the increase. A gathering such as this made for a prime target for all concerned. Logan chewed uneasily on his cigar. This was turning into another one of those thankless jobs that had become the X-Men's stock in trade. Did he protect mutants and humans from themselves or each other?

Back at the mansion, the smell of fried bacon joined Dr Henry McCoy's growing list of frustrations. Despite being two levels down in a sealed 'clean room', the distinctive smell was making his research a living hell. He had reached a dead-end and it was very difficult to come up with new solutions when his mouth was watering this much and his stomach rumbling so audibly. Hanging upside down from a ceiling beam Dr McCoy (alias The Beast) went over the data time and again. With a gentle 'hiss' Ororo pushed at the laboratory door and tapped the door to announce her presence.

"Henry?" she called trying not to touch anything as she entered.

"Aha… Storm our resident goddess and mistress of the barometric anomaly, how goes the quest." He answered somersaulting down from the ceiling.

Ororo watched with a warm smile that was channelled directly form the heart. Beast had been through so many changes since joining the x-men. His most recent list of crosses to bear included, further mutation, which left him with rather more feline in appearance and a savage beating at the hands of a mind-controlled student. His flamboyant greeting reminded her that underneath it all he was still lovable Henry McCoy. Watching her hirsute teammate in his element eased her concern about his ability to cope.

"Henry we got your message, what's wrong?"

"To be honest I'm not sure. I have something of an enigma and I wondered if you could help.

Beast back flipped over a table littered with brightly coloured test tubes and pitri dishes, landing on a battered looking stool on wheels, which creaked under his weight. As his momentum carried him backward toward a PC console, he continued:

"Genosha. Approximately 16 million lives were lost when an unannounced squadron of giant attack robots commonly referred to as Sentinels attacked the island. We know the attack was initiated by Cassandra Nova as part of a campaign to eradicate mutants on earth. This was a serious blow to the mutant community with an estimated 89 of the fatalities being x-gene positive… "

Beast tapped away avidly on the keyboard opening files and looking up at the ceiling. Ororo watched, puzzled as the good doctor hopped up from his seating and disappeared behind the console. After several seconds of fumbling around, there was a soft click and gentle hum as the holographic projector warmed up. The flicker of lasers increased to create an animated representation of the earth.

"Ok…so this is the island of Genosha. After the atrocities Scott and Logan went to investigate"

"Where they found Emma."

"Correct. Anyway whilst there, I had them set up several 'Eco-Psionic Pods', a kind of mutant weather station of my own design. I wanted to see how the ecosystem was affected by the presence or absence of mutants…"

"…And you want us plant some more on our travels? Or perhaps go and collect the ones Scott left…?"

"Thank you Ororo an interesting idea but that won't be necessary. Actually I've been testing them in various parts of the globe for several months now. With the U.N preparing a committee to discuss whether homo-superior are an ecological and economic threat to the planet I need as much primary data as possible. "

"So how can we help then?" said Ororo using a short sharp gust of wind to blow an empty chair toward her.

She was pleased to see Henry immersing himself in his work but it did mean that his briefings were seldom short.

"Three weeks after the pods were planted, I noticed a series of spikes in background psionic levels and E.M fields. There was also localised seismic activity centred around the north side of the main citadel."

"Magneto's Fortress?"

"Well… yes specifically, beneath it."

"You think Magneto survived the attack? A bunker of some sort."

Beast scratched his blue furry chin and reset his spectacles. Due to his recent mutation, he had fashioned new frames that had not worn it yet.

"Despite Magnus' legendary resilience and reported sightings at fast food restaurants with Elvis and Jimmy Hoffa, no. There's nothing in the readings to indicate bias toward magnetism, which usually accompanies his power signature. More importantly, the spike was a negative one. Whatever or whoever caused the outlier made the levels sharply decrease."

"Then what else could it be?"

"A new phenomenon of some kind. I'd like to check with Sage and see if there's anything in Destiny's diaries that could give us clues. With all that's been happening at the school, we need everyone here. Therefore I'd like your team to go and look around the main citadel."

Beast tapped heavily again at the unresponsive keyboard until he pushed his index digit through it. Frustrated with his newfound increase in strength, he swatted the broken hardware aside and cleared his throat.

"Henry what is it your not telling me?" asked Storm.

"Cerebra: Voice access user #3:McCoy, Henry. Codename: Beast"

After a slight pause the computer responded.

"Good morning Dr McCoy" Responded the mutant tracking computer in a cold female voice.

"Cerebra: display archive file flatscan1 using time index 1-30 on a recursive loop"

Storm watched on as the globe began to dance with needles of light. Beast removed his spectacles and cleaned them despite having vision that extended into the infrared spectrum.

"…As your probably aware, what your looking at is a recording of one of Cerebra's scans for the presence of the homo superior genome cross referenced with bio-electric and/or psionic energy. In this way we can track those who have active mutations rather than latent ones."

"Mutants that could use their powers?"

"Correct."

Excited at the opportunity to show off about the improvements he had made to the computer, Beast replaced his spectacles and leapt into the air somersaulting over the laser image and landed next to his colleague.

"Fascinating isn't it? It was actually a by-product of my attempts to fine tune Cerebra's increased scanning capabilities. When I first finished her she was so powerful she could track the x-factor in all its forms, which effectively left us snow-blind. Tracking an active mutant in that 'fog' was impractical…"

"Henry this truly is fascinating but …"

"My apologies Storm. Rather uniquely this phenomenon seems to affect active and inactive mutants differently. Active mutants are drained of psionic energy first but inactive mutants lose bio electric energy."

"Killing them?"

"There are no reports so far but in theory, yes. Potentially draining their life-force completely."

"Is there no end to the threats we must endure? Not to sound callous but why hasn't it?"

"Unfortunately there's no way of knowing until an investigation starts."

The scratch of phosphorous paste against sand paper, introduced a third opinion from out in the hallway.

"Just more fun and games all 'round eh?" Said Logan relighting the unfinished cigar from his morning hunt.

"Logan I've asked you on several occasions not to smoke in here. Although I am glad you've decided to take an interest in my research. You may find it more rewarding than waiting for the opportunity to eviscerate someone." Said Beast upset that the smell of Bacon was now mixed with tobacco.

"Good one Hank. 'Sides, I only came to see if 'ro had spoken to Bishop yet."

"A privilege I reserved for you!"

"Heh, too kind I'm sure. Any idea where?"

"The last time I saw him he was talking to Scott so my guess would be the Danger Room or main hangar. Good luck"

"Thanks, by the way Hank, only thing better'n waiting to "throw down" is popping the third claw… An' maybe a good Cuban!" Said Logan heading back into the hallway.

Based on Shi'ar technology, the Danger Room is possibly the most advanced training facility in the world. In the hands of an experienced operator, almost any battle conditions could be recreated. Today however, the use of this equipment is limited to a padded floor. Eager to take full advantage of the facilities before resuming his travels, Lucas Bishop stands ready for his workout. Stretching one last time, he raises his guard and asks a final question:

"Are sure about this?"

His opponent is Scott Summers better known by his code name Cyclops:

"With Alex gone you're the only other person around that can absorb and return my optic blasts."

"I thought this was a 'no powers' sparring session?"

"It is but if my glasses get knocked off I don't want to risk seriously injuring my opponent. Humour me. Accidents happen and battle is an unpredictable situation. You should know that more than most."

Bishop shrugged his large muscular shoulders.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

Bishop wasted no time starting things off by swinging some heavy haymakers at the ruby-eyed tam leader. As a natural brawler, Bishop's large muscular frame bounced heavily around the mat as he threw several looping lefts and rights. Cyclops easily avoided the attacks and smiled. Bishop was big, powerful and heavy but as the longest serving field commander of the x-men, Cyclops had made a career of knowing when some one was holding back and what they were capable of.

"If your going to waste my time then I'll train with someone that can really fight … like Remy!"

Bishop paused and reset his stance. His ploy to feign ineptness was obviously wasted on an opponent as seasoned as Mr Summers.

"It never hurts to try! Ok you ready?"

"Begin!"

Bishop reopened hostilities with a very different attitude. He had come a long way since boisterous young powerhouse that first joined the X.S.E. He had taken his youth, anger and natural gifts and tempered them with skill discipline and patience. This new attack was faster and more controlled. Rising to the challenge, Cyclops blocked and parried one strike after another. Both men were in excellent physical condition but Cyclops was over 100 pounds lighter and Bishop could use the energy he had absorbed to further augment his physical abilities. He would have to try and out-think his opponent. After several minutes of close combat, the ruby-eyed mutant had scored little more than a few glancing blows to his sparring partner and was ready to try something new.

Bishop could feel that there was a little less 'snap' in Cyclops' strikes; he was also increasingly evading attacks he could have blocked. Sensing that victory was close, the ex-soldier indulged himself by throwing a thunderous left hook, aiming for the solar plexus. Seizing the opportunity he had been waiting for, Cyclops took a split second to side step the attack and fire a low level optic blast at his temple. Rolling with the attack Bishop used the momentum to launch a powerful and well-rehearsed back kick. Ducking the expected counter, the field commander spun around in front of his adversary and unleashed a high intensity but low impact optic burst at his opponents face.

Cyclops had waited months to practice his version on a flash grenade on a live adversary and was pleased with the results. He had chosen Bishop as a test subject as he knew that he was tough enough to fully recover if he miscalculated the power level and would make good use of the absorbed energy. As if on cue, the blinded ex-soldier used the energy to give himself a recharge and began to quickly go through a series of attack drills with no real intent of hitting anyone but rather to buy time until his vision had cleared. Instead he had created the perfect conditions for Cyclops to test a second new strategy.

Standing squarely in front of the much larger and stronger opponent, Cyclops began blocking the blows, which were now faster and more powerful than ever, by reinforcing his hand-to-hand technique with short controlled burst to the attacking limbs in rapid succession. By concentrating on clothed areas of the body whenever possible he hoped to limit the amount of energy Bishop could absorb. Pleased with the results of his new strategies, moved in close beside Bishop ready to put him in a submission hold, when fate and a wicked sense f humour stepped in.

"Heads up!" Chuckled a gravel-like voice as a rather hirsute hand reached from behind Cyclops and pulled off his ruby quartz visor.

With nothing to keep the ruby coloured energy in check, a cascade of intensity poured from his eyes. Despite lasting less than a couple of seconds, it was enough to completely remove the skin from Wolverine's hand.

"Yeowch!" Said Wolverine hopping out of the way carrying his prize.

Still visually impaired, Bishop delivered a crisp one-two combination to the jaw, knocking Cyclops flat on his back.

"Hah I knew I'd catch you eventually." He roared triumphantly as he rubbed his eyes.

"Logan you idiot, what are you doing? Give me back my visor. I could have…"

"What? Like you said Bishop can take it and the control booth's shielded."

"But I was fighting blind…"

"Like you did to him? Hell Cyke if you wanted to practice fighting dirty you should have called me."

"He has a point Summers. No excuses!" Added Bishop who was not usually this pleased to see Wolverine.

"You lack the self control to practice manoeuvres like this. You'd have gone into one of your patented berserker rages" Replied Cyclops with eyes tightly shut.

"Self control eh…Look me in the eye an' say that"

With that Logan tossed the visor on the floor in front of its owner.

"…Bish, got a minute?"

Out side in the corridor the two men spoke.

"Are you ever going to get tired of goading him?" Asked Bishop trying not to laugh at one of the world's most powerful mutants on his hands and knees feeling for his visor.

"Sure…day after I switch to light beer and nicotine gum!"

"If you used patches you could wear one over your eye. Help keep your identity a secret!"

"Funny. I'm taking advice on keepin' a low profile from a guy who walks around wearin' a letter of the alphabet on his face and the artillery of a small country. You compensating for something?"

"Hahahaha…not me. Big guns all 'round! How's the hand?" Asked Bishop looking at the singed appendage.

"Lost some skin but it was worth it" Replied Logan looking at the hand that was already almost completely healed.

"Impressive. So what did you want?"

"How often do you go nightclubbing?"

"No thanks. Every time I go to one with one of the x-men there's trouble. And the drinks are too expensive. Now we have an understanding, I don't go to them and they don't bother me. Perhaps Remy would make a better drinking buddy…"

"You Kiddin'? The Cajun can't keep up with me…" Interrupted the hairy Canadian.

He proceeded to explain the offer that Sabretooth had made and the two men discussed the possible ramifications for several minutes. Bishop went back into the danger room to work out his frustrations on a rematch with Cyclops.


End file.
